The Vagabond
by TheHouseKey
Summary: Seabisquit fic.Red Pollard has injured himself once again, and is reduced to running errands for the Bisquit, and training him. No longer racing, he finds a very interesting character on the streets. Rated for Language.


**The Vagabond**

He was tired. That's what it boiled down to these days; he was exhausted. Seabisquit still had a few years in him to race, but Red Pollard couldn't do it. After the San Anita Handicapp, Seabisquit and he went to one more race. Fortune seemed to want Red to race only once, no more than that. As Red stood up from the saddle to celebrate recieving first place, he felt a tear in his right leg. Cursing, he collapsed onto Seabisquit, who felt what happened. The horse quickly knelt to the ground so Red didn't have far to fall.

The doctor had said "I told you so. You'll never walk, again."

Well, once again, Red proved him wrong. Red was up and walking three months later. The only difference is that he knew not to race, any more. He could ride, but not race. Seabisquit still won, but there seemed to be an underlying sadness in the horse because it wasn't Red urging him to victory, it was Georgie Woolf. It bothered Red, but as he turned twenty-four, he realized he could do nothing about it. Sure, he could go and risk not walking ever again a second time, or he could train Seabisquit to win, and let Georgie race him.

If anyone said Red Pollard was tamed by this incident, they'd be wrong. Every race Seabisquit was in, Red was in the infield, shouting at him.

"COME ON, POPS! YOU CAN DO IT! DON'T LET THOSE PIECES OF SHIT BEAT YOU!"

Nope, Red Pollard was definitely not subdued by his injury.

Seabisquit quickly became a novelty for the crowds, and they stopped swarming to get a good look at him. His legacy lived on, though, so he wasn't truly forgotten.

Mr. Howard had asked Red to go see if the new feed shop in town had any special food Seabisquit might like. Laughing, Red had responded, "What food doesn't the Bisquit like?" With that, he left the house, leaving a chortling Howard.

As Red walked the streets, he heard screaming and cursing. Turning into the alley, he saw a young boy getting beaten up by four grown men. He was tall for a boy, and had fair skin. His beige trousers had seen better days, and his very baggy shirt looked like it used to be white. He looked lanky and gawky.

"GET THE HELL OFF ME, YOU ASSHOLES!" he screamed. Red figured he must've been young to have that high-pitched of a voice. He was hitting the four men with a burlap sack that obviously had some heavy contents. Two of the men pinned the boy against the wall as the third dealed a blow to his stomach. Lunging out, the boy kicked the third man in the groin and ran off. The fourth man tried to grab his head, and the boy's cap fell off, revealing a long mop of ratty, mouse brown hair.

Red blinked and shifted his head so that he got a good look. It was a girl, not a boy!

At this, the men sneered and laughed at their seemingly good fortune. They advanced upon her, again.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Get the hell away from me, you sons of a bitches!" she yelled. Each man grabbed a limb and hoisted her up.

Red couldn't stand this any more. Do it to a young boy as a rite of initiation, but not to a woman. "Hey! Assholes!"

As one, they dropped the girl, and turned to Red. The bigger one snarled at him. "What do you want? Can't you see we're busy?"

Red didn't even answer. He just clocked the man right in the face. "Leave her alone! Can't you see she's just a girl?"

"FUCK YOU! Just a girl, my ass! Why don't you come over here so I can whoop you, too! Just a girl. I'll give you just a girl!" At that, she sprang up and started punching the other three guys. Finally, she grabbed her bag and darted off. The four guys were still there, and so was a very confused Red.

He returned from the feed store a little bit later because of the streetfight, but Howard didn't ask questions.

"Did you hear anything about anyone new moving in?" Red asked Tom, who was whittling away at some wood in the stables.

"Nope."

"Not even another vagabond passing through?" Sometimes Red felt like he wanted to hit Tom for his one word answers.

"There's always vagabonds passin' through. That's their way."

"Don't they keep records on them, though? Tag them? Herd them? Something?"

"Nope."

Frustrated, Red took the streets, again, to see if he could find the girl. _It isn't safe for her to be traveling alone_, Red thought, but then he remembered watching her fight those four guys. He figured she'd be okay against one, but groups, she'd be powerless. _It's not even the fact that she's a girl,_ Red mused, _Any traveler's not safe going around on his own_. He wandered, without really noticing where he was going. He knew these streets so well, he could walk them perfectly, even if his other eye was blind. As he strolled, lost in his own thoughts, he bumped into a person.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. If I had a halfpenny for every time someone said that I'd be rich," was shot back at him. It was the girl from before. Her New England accent was more notable now that she wasn't screaming.

Red put his hands in his pockets in defeat, and found that he had a halfpenny left from that new feed store. He took it out of his pocket. "Wait!" he called back to her.

Surprised, she turned around. Her black eyes were squinting, as though she were always suspicious. "What?"

"I heard what you said about the halfpenny thing." He handed it to her. "You can start charging people who bump into you, now." He smiled, thinking it'd be a good joke.

Her face didn't even change its expression. "And that's supposed to be funny?" She threw the halfpenny at him. "I don't want your goddamn charity. But thanks, any way." She started to walk away, again.

"Would you hold on, a minute?" Red stopped her.

"What do you want? Can't you just leave me the hell alone?" she retorted.

"No. I make it my business to know everyone around here. I'm Red Pollard. I rode Seabisquit in the San Anita Handicapp for the last time two years ago. What's your name?" he introduced.

"Two years ago?" A painful memory came back to her. Red could see it in her face.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You know Riddle? That fucking old fart who owns that statue of a horse War Admiral?"

Red was interested to know why she was suddenly talking to him. "Of course I do. My horse Seabisquit raced him in the race of the century a few years back, and beat him."

"Well, that son of a bitch stole my horse. Said it was his, but someone stole it from him. Don't know why he'd want something like Cyclops, hell. He had War Admiral. What more horses could he want?" She paused for a moment as her eyes turned glassy. "I...I need to go. Nice talking to you, Red." She turned to go.

"You still didn't tell me your name!" he called out as she ran off.

"It's Percy!"

_Percy?_ Red thought. _What kind of a name is Percy for a girl?_

Throughout that day, and into the next, Red couldn't stop thinking about Percy. How he'd love to brush out her hair, and see how she hid her femininity so well. His thoughts were actually a bit disturbing.


End file.
